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[See  page   78 
I     JUST     SAY     TO      MYSELF,   'HE      UNDERSTANDS      HIS      BUSINESS 


w\ 

MA 


BY 

GARET 


DELANO 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  AWAKENING  OF  HELENA  RICHIE 
"  OLD  CHESTER  TALES  "  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 

ALICE  BARBER  STEPHENS 


NEW  YORK  AND   LONDON 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

MCMIX 


BOOKS    BY 
MARGARET    DELAND 

OLD  CHESTER  TALES.  Illustrated.  Post8vo$l  BO 

AN  ENCORE.     Illustrated 8vo  1  60 

THE  AWAKENING  OF  HELENA  RICHIE. 

Illustrated Post  8vo  1  50 

DR.  LAVENDAR'S  PEOPLE.   Ill'd.  PostSvo  1  50 

R.  J.'S  MOTHER.    Illustrated PostSvo  150 

GOOD  FOR  THE  SOUL 16mo  50 

THE  COMMON  WAY...                 ...16mo«^  1  25 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS.  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1909,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  October,  igoq. 


"l  JUST  SAY  TO  MYSELF,  '  HE  UN 
DERSTANDS  HIS  BUSINESS'"  .  Frontispiece 

HE  MANAGED  TO  GET  TO  THE  OTHER 

END  OP  THE  BRIDGE  ....  Facing  p.  22 


"LADIES,"    HE    BEGAN,    "i    SHALL 


HAVE   THE   PLEASURE 


60 


tlj? 


j; 


.  <ir«~-N  r  ^y    •      Al  \U0.i^l:.<'O'      ^<a_  .. 


MESS  JANE  JAY  used   to    think 
that  she  discovered  Paul  Phillips ; 
but  really  and  truly  Doctor  Lavendar 
saw  him  before  she  did,  and  so  did  her 
sister,  Miss  Henrietta. 

It  was  one  hot  August  afternoon 
that  the  old  minister,  passing  the  open 
door  of  Van  Horn's  tavern,  saw  a 
lazy,  sweltering  crowd  gathered  in 
side,  where,  it  seemed,  some  sort  of 
entertainment  was  going  on.  Doctor 
Lavendar  stopped  and  looked  in,  his 


Ufym  Ity  ICabflrera  Are 


hands  on  either  side  of  the  doorway, 
his  hat  pushed  back,  his  face  red  with 
heat.  He  smiled,  and  blinked  his 
kind  old  eyes,  and  then  he  frowned: 
an  acrobat,  in  black  tights  and  scarlet 
breech-cloth,  was  vaulting  over  chair 
backs  and  making  high  kicks.  His 
work  was  done  with  remarkable  grace, 
but  with  exertions  which  it  was  pain 
ful  to  witness,  for  he  had  but  one 
leg,  and  had  to  use  a  crutch.  Still, 
his  face,  which  was  dark  and  very 
handsome  and  streaming  with  per 
spiration,  was  sparkling  with  interest 
and  enjoyment. 

It  was  the  one  leg  that  offended 
Doctor  Lavendar.  "Trading  on  his 
infirmities,"  he  said  to  himself,  frown 
ing,  and  shook  his  head.  Van  Horn, 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  with  a  palm-leaf 
fan,  trying  to  keep  cool  in  a  big  rocking- 
chair,  shook  his  head  too,  as  if  to  say 


that  he  didn't  approve,  but  what  could 
he  do  ?  Then  he  turned  his  eyes  back 
to  the  man,  who,  with  astonishing  ease, 
spun  round  on  his  crutch  and  kicked 
lightly  up  into  the  air  so  far  above  his 
own  head  that  he  dislodged  a  hat 
balanced  on  top  of  the  clock.  There 
was  a  round  of  applause,  and  the 
acrobat,  panting  and  leaning  on  his 
crutch,  bowed  and  laughed  and  showed 
his  handsome  white  teeth.  Doctor 
Lavendar  snorted  under  his  breath, 
and  opening  his  umbrella,  went  back 
into  the  sun  and  heat,  and  plodded 
along  toward  home.  He  stopped  once 
to  speak  to  Miss  Henrietta  Jay,  who 
was  coming  down  the  street,  her 
square,  wilted  countenance  full  of 
agitation  and  dismay. 

"Oh,  Doctor  Lavendar!"  she  said, 
with  a  gasp,  "  have  you  seen — have  you 
seen  a  large  white  cat  anywhere  about  ?" 
3 


Ar* 

Poor  old  Miss  Henrietta's  voice 
shook  as  she  spoke.  She  had  no  um 
brella,  and  the  sun  beat  down  on  her 
bent  shoulders.  She  wore  a  faded 
black  dolman  which  had  a  sparse 
fringe  of  narrow  crinkled  tapes.  Her 
rusty  bonnet  was  very  much  on  one 
side,  as  though  the  green  velvet 
rosette  over  her  left  eye  weighed  it 
down.  "It's  our  Jacky,"  she  said, 
her  lip  shaking.  "He's  lived  with  us 
fifteen  years;  and  he's  lost." 

"  Oh,  lost  cats  always  find  their  way 
home,"  Doctor  Lavendar  said,  com 
fortingly. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  she  said,  in  a 
despairing  voice.  But  she  did  not 
wait  for  his  answer;  she  went  on  down 
the  street,  with  wavering  uncertain 
steps,  as  though  feeling  always  that 
she  might  be  going  in  just  the  wrong 
direction.  She  stopped  now  and  then 
4 


. 


tty  Hab0m0  Ar? 

at  a  gateway  or  an  alley,  and  called 
softly,  "Baby!  baby!"  but  no  white 
cat  appeared.  It  was  then  that  she 
too  passed  the  tavern  door  and  looked 
in,  but  only  to  say  to  Van  Horn, 
"Have  you  seen  a  large  white  cat 
anywhere?"  Afterward  she  remem 
bered  that  she  had  seen  the  acrobat; 
but  at  the  moment  she  was  blind  to 
everything  but  her  own  anxiety. 

Doctor  Lavendar  looked  after  her 
and  sighed;  but  when  he  met  Willy 
King  coming  out  of  Tommy  Dove's 
shop,  and  smelling  of  dried  herbs,  he 
burst  out  with  his  disapproval  of  the 
performance  in  the  bar-room.  "  There's 
a  man  down  there  at  the  tavern,"  he 
said,  "jumping  around  on  one  leg  to 
get  coppers.  I  wonder  Van  Horn  al 
lows  it!" 

And  Willy  agreed,  gloomily :  William 
was  very  gloomy  just  then,  because 
5 


UahnrrrB  Ar? 


his  wife,  very  sensibly,  was  dieting  him 
to  reduce  his  weight.  "That  kind  of 
beggary  is  blackmail,"  he  said.  "It 
makes  an  appeal  to  your  sympathies, 
and  you  give,  in  spite  of  common 
sense.  At  least,  you  want  to  give; 
but  I  won't.  It's  the  same  thing  with 
these  women  who  knit  afghans  and 
things,  that  you  can't  use!  Your 
mountebank  at  the  tavern  ought  to 
be  in  the  workhouse." 

"As  for  knitting,"  said  Doctor  Lav- 
endar,  thoughtfully,  "I  suppose  you 
mean  the  Jay  girls  ?  Well,  poor  things  ! 
they've  got  to  do  something  that's 
genteel;  and  knitting  is  that,  you 
know.  Maggy  refers  to  it  always  as 
'fancy-  work,'  which  soothes  her  pride, 
poor  girl." 

"  Maggy  is  a  goose,"  said  the  Doctor, 
irritably,  "  and  yet  she  is  the  only  one 
that  has  any  sense  in  the  whole  family  !" 
6 


"Willy,"  said  Doctor  Lavendar, 
chuckling,  "you've  bought  an  afghan! 
— or  maybe  baby  socks  ?"  The  Doctor 
looked  sheepish.  "William,  you  always 
remind  me  of  the  young  man  in  the 
Bible  who  said  he  would  not,  and  then 
straightway  did.  Well,  I'm  glad  you 
did,  my  boy ;  they  are  almost  destitute, 
poor  girls! — almost  destitute,  I  fear." 

As  for  Willy  King,  he  went  down 
to  the  tavern  with  disapproval  on  his 
lips,  but  with  a  quarter  in  his  hand. 
"I'll  have  to  put  something  into  his 
hat,  I  suppose,  but  I'll  tell  Van  Horn 
what  I  think  of  this  kind  of  thing," 
he  said  to  himself,  sternly.  But  when 
he  looked  into  the  bar-room  the  crowd 
had  dispersed  and  the  man  had  gone. 

"Well,  Willy,"  said  Van  Horn,  who 

had  known  the  Doctor  when  he  was  a 

boy  and  used  to  steal  apples  from  the 

tavern  orchard,  "  I  swan,  that  was  the 

7 


k 


queerest  fish!  He  hadn't  only  but 
one  leg  and  a  crutch,  and  he  kicked  as 
high  as  your  head,  sir.  Yes,  sir,  as 
high  as  your  head.  And  then,  I  swan, 
when  the  show  was  over,  if  he  didn't 
turn  to  and  preach  to  them  there  fel 
lers;  preach  as  good  a  sermon — well, 
now  you  won't  believe  me,  but  it  was 
a  first-class  sermon!  Well,  sir,  them 
fellers  listened.  Tob  Todd  listened. 
Yes  he  did.  He  listened.  And  that 
man  he  told  'em  not  to  patronize  my 
bar,  so  he  did.  Well,  for  the  soakers, 
I  hold  up  both  hands  to  that!  But 
to  see  a  one-legged  dancing  tramp 
setting  up  to  preach  in  a  bar-room — 
I  swan!"  said  Van  Horn,  who  could 
find  no  words  for  the  occasion. 

The  Doctor   looked  disgusted,   and 
put  his  quarter  back  in  his  pocket. 
"You'd  better  keep  your  eye  on  the 
till,"  he  said,  briefly. 
8 


ffiaimmu  Ar? 


But  Van  Horn  was  doubtful.  "  Seem 
ed  like  as  if  he  was  all  right,"  he 
ruminated;  "still,  you  can't  never 
tell." 

So  it  happened  that  Willy  King  had 
his  views  about  Paul  when  Miss  Jane 
Jay  came,  white  and  breathless,  to  tell 
him  that  the  poor  man  had  "hurt  his 
limb"  on  the  road  near  her  sister's 
house,  and  would  he  please  come  and 
fix  it?  "At  once,  Doctor  King,"  said 
Jane,  agitatedly,  "at  once!" 

Miss  Jane  was  the  youngest  of  the 
Miss  Jays.  There  were  three  Misses 
Jay,  who  lived  "  the  Lord  knows  howl" 
Old  Chester  used  to  say,  in  their 
tumbled-down  old  house  on  the  river 
road.  Doctor  Lavendar  sometimes  re 
ferred  to  their  circumstances  as  "strait 
ened,"  but  he  had  no  idea  of  the  degree 
of  their  straitness.  Nobody  knew  that 
•  9 


ICdrorerfi  Are 


but  the  Jay  girls,  and  they  kept  it  to 
themselves.  The  family  had  known 
better  days  two  generations  back;  in 
deed,  many  a  time,  when  their  dinner 
was  inadequate,  the  Misses  Jay  stayed 
their  stomachs  on  the  fact  that  they 
were  Bishop  Jay's  great-granddaugh 
ters.  Besides  that,  their  father  had 
been  a  clergyman;  so  they  had,  poor 
ladies!  in  the  midst  of  their  poverty, 
that  gentle  condescension  which  is  the 
ecclesiastical  form  of  Christian  hu 
mility.  They  took  a  great  interest  in 
church  matters,  and  they  were  critical 
of  sermons,  as  behooved  those  who 
knew  the  dark  mysteries  of  sermon- 
writing.  Still,  they  were  kindly,  sim 
ple  women,  who  tried,  on  a  very  in 
sufficient  income,  to  do  their  duty  and 
live  up  to  their  clerical  past.  This 
family  pride  was  most  noticeable  in 
fat  Miss  Maggy  —  there  are  people  who 

10 


ilje  HatwrerH  Are  Stem 

would  be  fat  on  a  straw  a  day!  Hen 
rietta,  the  oldest,  devoted  to  her  cat 
and  her  canary-bird,  and  the  real 
genius  of  the  family  in  regard  to 
afghans,  read  her  Bible-  through  twice 
a  year  on  a  system  arranged  by  the 
bishop,  and  merely  echoed  Maggy's 
views ;  little  Jane  admitted  the  dignity 
of  her  birth  whenever  Maggy  called 
her  attention  to  it,  but  she  murmured 
sometimes  a  vague  protest  at  its 
restrictions.  Indeed,  she  and  Henri 
etta,  without  Maggy's  influence,  might 
even  have  slipped  down  into  what 
Miss  Maggy  called  "  mercantile  pur 
suits."  They  would  have  been  dress 
makers,  perhaps,  for  Henrietta  had  a 
pretty  taste  in  turning  dresses  wrong 
side  out,  right  side  out,  and  wrong  side 
out  again;  and  Jane  might  have  trim 
med  bonnets  with  (she  used  to  think 
to  herself)  a  "real  touch."  But  Miss 
IT 


tlje 


Ar? 


Maggy  was  firm.  "I  am  sure,"  she 
said,  "I  have  the  greatest  respect  for 
working  persons.  Great-grandfather 
Jay  wrote  a  tract  for  them  —  don't  you 
remember  ?  —  '  The  Virtuous  Content  of 
Poor  James,  the  Brickmaker.'  But 
still,  I  know  what  is  due  to  our  station. 
And  besides,"  she  ended,  with  that 
pathetic  shrinking  of  elderly,  genteel 
poverty,  "if  you  trimmed  hats,  Jane, 
everybody  would  know  that  we  are  — 
are  not  well  off."  The  other  sisters 
sighed,  and  agreed,  and  were  somehow 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  Willy  King 
had  no  need  of  a  dozen  pairs  of  baby 
socks,  and  that  Mrs.  Dale's  order  of  an 
afghan  every  year  implied  either  that 
these  brilliant  coverings  wore  out  very 
quickly,  or  else  that  Mrs.  Dale's  pur 
chase  was  only  —  but  it  would  be  cruel 
to  name  it! 

"We  do  fancy-work,"  Miss  Maggy 

12 


said,  "for  recreation;  if  our  friends 
need  the  product  of  our  needles,  well 
and  good.  Were  our  circumstances 
different,  we  would  be  glad  to  give 
them  what  they  wish.  As  it  is,  we 
make  a  slight  charge — for  materials." 

So  the  Misses  Jay  knitted  and 
crocheted ;  and  one  day  in  the  year  put 
on  their  shabby  best  clothes  and  made 
calls;  and  one  day  in  the  year  enter 
tained  the  sewing  society,  and  lived 
on  the  fragments  of  cake  afterward 
as  long  as  they  lasted.  It  was  a  harm 
less,  monotonous  life,  its  only  interest 
the  anxiety  about  money — which  is 
not  an  interest  that  feeds  the  soul. 

On  this  hot  August  afternoon — the 
afternoon  following,  as  it  chanced,  the 
meeting  of  the  sewing  society,  the 
Misses  Jays'  ancient  cat,  disturbed, 
perhaps,  by  the  excitement  of  so  much 
company,  had  disappeared.  Henrietta 
13 


:^1W 


Skbarera  Are 


had  hurried  into  the  village  to  look 
for  him,  and  Jane  had  gone  out  in  the 
other  direction;  Maggy  stayed  at 
home  to  let  him  in  if  he  came  back. 
But  Jane  did  not  go  far;  not  that  she 
was  not  anxious  about  Jacky,  only 
"there's  no  use  getting  a  sunstroke," 
she  said  to  herself,  wearily.  How 
ever,  she  did  look,  and  called  among 
the  bushes,  and  then,  feeling  the  heat 
very  much,  in  a  hopeless  way  she  gave 
it  up. 

There  is  a  wooden  bridge  across  a 
shallow  run  just  beyond  the  Jay  house, 
and  Jane  thought  how  cool  it  would  be 
in  the  deep  shadow  under  the  dusty 
planks,  where  the  run  slipped  smoothly 
over  wide  flat  stones,  or  chattered  into 
little  waterfalls  a  foot  high;  and  per 
haps  Jacky  might  be  down  there,  she 
thought.  So,  holding  on  to  the  bushes 
and  tufts  of  grass,  she  climbed  down 
14 


Are 


the  bank  and  found  this  dark  shelter, 
with  the  cool  sound  of  running  water. 
'  *  Jacky  !  Come  kitty  !  '  '  she  called  once 
or  twice;  and  then  she  sat  down  on  a 
water-  worn  log  washed  up  under  the 
bridge  and  caught  between  two  stones  ; 
there  were  tufts  of  dried  dead  grass 
here  and  there,  swept  side  wise  by  the 
winter  torrents  and  left  now  above 
the  shrunken  summer  stream,  bleached 
and  stiff  with  yellow  mud;  overhead 
were  the  planks  of  the  bridge,  with 
lines  of  sunshine  between  them  as  thin 
as  knitting-needles.  Once,  as  she  sat 
there,  a  wagon  came  jolting  along,  and 
the  dust  sifted  down  and  spread  in  a 
flowing  scum  on  the  water.  It  was 
very  silent,  except  for  the  run,  chat 
tering  and  bubbling  and  chattering 
again  ;  sometimes,  absently,  she  picked 
up  little  stones  and  threw  them  into 
the  water:  she  was  thinking  of  an 


Arc 


afghan  she  was  making  for  Rachel 
King's  little  adopted  baby.  But  Miss 
Jane  had  no  interest  in  her  work;  it 
was  something  to  be  done,  that  was 
all.  Indeed,  she  was  tired  of  the 
touch  of  the  worsted,  and  of  the  hot 
smoothness  of  the  crochet-needle,  slip 
ping  in  and  out,  in  and  out.  She 
dabbled  her  fingers  in  the  water,  as  if 
she  would  wash  the  feeling  away. 
She  thought  vaguely  of  the  years  of 
afghans  and  socks  and  endless  talk 
about  colors;  there  was  never  any 
thing  more  exciting  to  talk  about  than 
whether  pink  and  blue  stripes  would 
be  pretty  together,  or  whether  it 
would  be  safe  to  try  the  new  fashion  of 
using  green  and  blue  in  the  same 
piece.  Miss  Maggy  declared  it  would 
be  shocking!  "I  don't  believe  Mrs. 
Dale  would  approve  of  a  green  and 
blue  afghan,"  Miss  Maggy  would  say, 
16 


ilf?  1Cab0r^r0  Ar? 

emphatically;  "I  am  sure  she  would 
think  it  almost — French!"  No;  there 
was  nothing  more  interesting  than  the 
choice  of  colors,  except  the  sewing 
society  meeting  once  a  year;  or,  now, 
Jacky's  getting  lost.  In  all  the  level 
dulness  of  Miss  Jane's  thirty-four  years, 
there  had  been  nothing  important— 
not  even  a  grief! 

As  she  sat  there  listening  to  the  low 
chatter  and  whisper  of  the  run,  there 
came  to  little  Miss  Jane  a  bad  query— 
11  What  is  the  use  of  it  all?"  I  suppose 
most  of  us  know  the  peculiar  ennui  of 
the  soul  that  accompanies  this  ques 
tion;  it  is  a  sort  of  spiritual  nausea 
which  is  never  felt  in  the  stress  of 
agonized  living,  but  only  in  sterile 
peace;  indeed,  that  is  why  we  may 
believe  it  to  be  but  the  demand  of 
Life  for  living — for  love,  or  hate,  or 
pain.  Miss  Jane,  thinking  dully  of 


ilj?  3Gab0rer0  Ar?  Jforo 

afghans,  made  no  such  analysis;  she 
was  not  happy  enough  to  know  that 
she  was  unhappy.  She  only  said  to 
herself:  "I  wonder  what's  the  matter 
with  me?  I  guess  it's  Henrietta's 
cake." 

She  sighed,  and  dropped  her  chin 
into  her  hand,  leaning  her  elbow  on 
her  knee.  Her  face  was  thin,  but  it 
had  a  delicate  color,  and  her  eyes  were 
violet,  or  blue,  or  gray,  like  changing 
clouds;  her  pathetic  mouth,  drooping 
and  patiently  discontented,  had  much 
sweetness  in  its  timid  way.  But  there 
was  no  touch  of  human  passion  about 
her.  She  was  fond  of  her  sisters,  she 
told  herself,  as  she  sat  there  wonder 
ing  what  was  the  use  of  it  all,  but 
nothing  stirred  in  her  at  the  thought 
of  them.  "  If  somebody  told  me  just 
now,  here  under  the  bridge,  that 
something  had  happened  to  sister 
18 


SJabama  Are 


Maggy,  I  don't  believe  I'd  really  mind. 
Of  course  I'd  cry,  and  all  that  —  but  it 
wouldn't  make  any  difference.  I  just 
don't  care.  And  I  don't  care  whether 
Jacky  comes  back  or  not." 

And  as  she  spoke  she  lifted  her 
head  and  listened.  Some  one  was 
coming  down  the  road  whistling. 
When  he  reached  the  bridge  there 
was  a  curious  sound:  a  footstep,  then 
a  tap;  a  footstep,  then  a  tap.  The 
dust  jolted  softly  down,  wavering 
across  the  strips  of  sunshine,  and  then 
vanishing  on  the  flowing  water.  '  '  It's 
a  lame  person,"  said  Miss  Jane,  lis 
tening.  A  footstep,  then  a  tap  — 
then  a  snap,  a  crash,  a  fall!  Jane 
jumped  up,  breathlessly;  from  a  knot 
hole  in  the  planks  above  her  a  broken 
stick  fell  clattering  on  to  the  stones; 
it  had  a  brass  ferrule  and  ring.  '  *  Some 
poor  man  has  broken  his  crutch," 
19 


ilf?  fCatmrera  Ar? 

Jane  thought.  "Wait  a  minute,  and 
I'll  bring  it  up  to  you!"  she  called  out, 
and  began  to  climb  up  the  bank,  the 
end  of  the  crutch  in  her  hand. 

As  for  Paul  Phillips,  when  he  pitched 
forward  into  the  dust,  he  was  so  as 
tonished  that  for  the  moment  he  did 
not  feel  the  keen  twinge  a  wrenched 
knee.  But  when  Miss  Jane,  out  of 
breath,  with  the  end  of  the  crutch  in 
her  hand,  appeared  over  the  edge  of 
the  bank,  his  face  was  white  with  pain. 

"Oh,  you've  hurt  yourself!'*  said 
Miss  Jane. 

"Yes,  'in,"  said  Paul;  "but  never 
mind!"  His  brown  eyes  smiled  up  at 
her  in  the  kindest  way. 

"Oh,  you  are — lame,"  she  faltered. 

"Yes;  but  that's  nothing,"  Paul 
said,  the  color  beginning  to  come  back 
into  his  face;  "I  guess  I  put  the  end 
of  my  crutch  into  that  knot-hole.  I 

20 


Are 


was  whistling  away,  you  know,  and 
I  never  took  notice  of  the  road." 

"I  heard  you  whistling,"  said  Miss 
Jane;  "but  —  what  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"Oh,  somebody  '11  come  along  and 
give  me  a  lift,"  he  said  ;  then  he  looked 
ruefully  at  the  parted  strap  of  his  knap 
sack,  which  had  burst  open,  scattering 
his  possessions  in  the  dust. 

"You  can't  stay  here  in  the  sun," 
she  protested,  "and  so  few  wagons 
come  along  this  road." 

"If  I  could  get  over  there  to  the 
other  side,"  he  said,  "there's  a  good 
lot  of  shade,  and  I  could  just  sit  there 
until  a  cart  comes  along.  I'll  get  'em 
to  drop  me  at  one  of  these  barns.  I'll 
get  a  night's  lodging  in  the  hay,  and 
my  knee  '11  be  all  right  to-morrow." 
He  tried  to  scramble  up,  but  the  effort 
made  him  blanch  with  pain. 

21 


JUifftr?  ilj?  llahiim*  Ar? 

"Oh,  do  let  me  help  you,"  said  Miss 
Jane,  her  color  coming  and  going. 
"Oh  dear,  I  know  it  must  hurt!  Do 
put  your  hand  on  my  shoulder;  do, 
please!"  Paul  assented  very  simply; 
with  a  gentle,  iron-like  grip  he  took 
hold  of  her  thin  little  arm ;  but  it  was 
so  little  and  so  tremulous  that  he  let 
go  almost  instantly,  and  would  have' 
had  an  awkward  fall  but  that  she 
caught  him;  then  he  got  his  balance, 
and  leaning  on  her  shoulder,  sweating 
and  smiling  at  the  pain,  he  man 
aged  to  get  to  the  other  end  of  the 
bridge. 

Miss  Jane,  standing  beside  him,  in 
her  striped  barege  dress,  her  hat  with 
its  flounce  of  lace  around  the  brim 
pushed  back  from  her  flushed  and  in 
terested  face,  began  to  protest  that 
she  must  get  some  help  immediately! 
But  even  as  she  spoke  Paul  suddenly 

,22 


HE     MANAGED     TO     GET     TO     THE     OTHEfi     END     OF     THE     BRIDGE 


2Jab0r*r0  Are 


turned  his  head  a  little  and  fainted 
quite  away. 

So  that  was  how  it  happened  that  (a 
man  and  cart  coming  along  most  op 
portunely)  he  was  not  carried  to  a 
barn  to  nurse  his  sprained  knee,  but 
to  the  Jay  girls'  house,  where  he  was 
put  down  on  the  big  horse-hair  sofa 
in  the  parlor,  and  given  over  to  the 
ministration  of  Willy  King. 


II 


WILLIAM  KING  was  not  sympa 
thetic.  He  said  the  man  had- 
hurt  his  knee  badly,  and  had  better 
be  sent  to  the  workhouse  to  recover. 
"He  ought  to  be  in  jail,"  Willy  said 
to  Miss  Maggy,  who  lifted  her  hands 
in  horror  at  the  word.  ''He's  a  va 
grant.  I'll  send  some  kind  of  con 
veyance,  and  have  him  taken  to  the 
workhouse.  It's  too  bad  you  should 
be  bothered  with  him,  Miss  Maggy." 

Then  it  was  that  Jane,  standing  be 
hind  her  sister,  and  quite  hidden  by 
her  ponderous  frame,  said,  in  her  light, 
fluttering  voice:  "  Poor  man!     I  think 
24 


Ar* 


it  would  be  wicked  to  send  him  to  the 
workhouse." 

Doctor  King  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"Oh,  of  course  it  is  just  as  you  and 
Miss  Maggy  say.  You'll  be  very  kind 
to  keep  him  for  a  few  days  ;  but  I  hope 
you'll  not  be  repaid  by  having  your 
spoons  carried  off." 

Miss  Maggy's  mouth  grew  round 
with  dismay.  "  But  ladies  in  our  posi 
tion  cannot  refuse  shelter  to  a  poor 
man  with  an  injured  limb,"  she  said. 

"And  his  only  limb,  too!"  Jane 
added,  excitedly. 

As  for  the  danger  to  the  spoons— 
"We  haven't  but  six,"  said  Miss 
Maggy,  sighing,  "  and  we  can  hide  them 
under  the  edge  of  the  carpet  in  Hen 
rietta's  room.  Go  and  meet  her, 
Janie,  and  tell  her  about  the  poor 
man." 

Henrietta  was  coming  up  the  road, 

3  25 


Jt 


Ar? 


her  bonnet  still  very  much  on  one 
side,  and  her  old  face  quivering  with 
anxiety.  "Did  you  find  him?"  she 
called  out  as  soon  as  she  saw  Jane, 
who  shook  her  head,  and  began  to  tell 
her  own  exciting  story.  Miss  Hen 
rietta  listened,  absently. 

"His  name  is  Paul,"  Jane  ended; 
"  a  very  romantic  name,  I  think.  You 
don't  mind  his  remaining,  do  you, 
sister  Henrietta?" 

"No,  I  don't  mind,"  said  Miss  Hen 
rietta,  sighing.  " Is  he  a  circus  actor? 
One  of  the  servants  took  me  to  the 
circus  once,  when  I  was  a  little  thing. 
Janie,  ask  him  if  he  saw  a  large  white 
cat  as  he  came  along.  Poor  man! 
I'm  sorry  he  hurt  himself.  Oh,  Janie, 
Jacky  may  be  hurt!  I  keep  thinking 
that  he  may  be  suffering,"  she  said, 
her  poor  old  eyes  filling :  then,  as  they 
came  up  to  the  door,  she  called  again, 
26 


Ar* 


faintly:  "Baby!  baby!    Come,  pussy; 
come,  Jack!" 

As  for  Miss  Maggy,  when  it  was  set 
tled  that  the  man  should  remain,  she 
thought  of  the  pantry  and  sighed  ;  but 
it  was  she  who  informed  him  that  he 
might  stay  until  his  "limb"  per 
mitted  him  to  walk. 

Paul,  however,  had  his  own  views. 
"No,  'm,"  he  said,  "thank  you;  but 
I  see  you  have  a  stable  back  there  be 
hind  the  house;  I'll  go  there,  and  lie 
in  the  hay  till  my  knee  clears  up. 
Then  I'll  go  along." 

"  But  you  can  just  as  well  stay  here," 
Jane  said. 

Paul  shook  his  head  with  cheerful 
stubbornness.  "  No,  ma'am  ;  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you,  but  I'll  go  to  the 
stable." 

"As  you  please,  my  good  man," 
said  Miss  Maggy. 

27 


Habnmii  Ar* 

But  Jane  still  protested.  "Oh,  a 
stable!"  she  said*  "you  oughtn't  to  be 
in  a  stable." 

"There's  been  One  in  a  stable, 
ma'am,  that  didn't  think  it  beneath 
Him.  I'm  right  apt  to  think  about 
that,  sleeping  round  the  way  I  do," 
the  man  said,  simply. 

The  two  ladies  stared  at  him  with- 
parted  lips. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  pretty  sight," 
he  went  on,  thoughtfully.  "  When  I'm 
lying  up  on  the  hay,  I  get  the  picture 
of  it  in  my  mind  real  often — just  like 
as  if  I  saw  it.  There's  the  cows  stand 
ing  round  chewing  their  cud;  and 
maybe  some  mules — you'd  hear  them 
stamping.  And  the  oxen  would  be 
rubbing  up  against  their  stanchions. 
I  always  think  the  door  was  open  a 
little  crack,  and  you  could  see  out — 
the  morning  just  beginning,  you  know. 
28 


•HJljm  %  ICahnmfi  Are 

And  there,  in  the  manger,  Mary  and 
Him.  I  like  to  think  that  to  myself 
—don't  you?" 

"Why — yes;  I  don't  know — I  sup 
pose  so,"  Jane  said,  breathlessly. 

"My  great-grandfather  wrote  a  ser 
mon  on  the  Nativity,"  Miss  Maggy 
said,  kindly;  "  I'm  sure  he  would  think 
it  very  nice  in  you  to  have  such 
thoughts." 

But  after  that  they  did  not  oppose 
his  plan  of  leaving  the  house.  The 
butcher-boy  was  asked  to  help  him 
limp  out  to  the  stable,  and  some  hay 
was  shaken  down  for  his  bed. 

"He  talks  like  a  Sunday-school 
teacher,"  the  boy  said,  when  he  came 
back  for  the  five-cent  fee  that  had 
been  promised  him;  "but  /  don't 
mind.  And  you'd  ought  to  'a*  seen 
him  jump — down  at  the  tavern!  My!" 

And  indeed,  with  open  pride,  the 
29 


'.^L' 


mijm  tty  Hab0m0  Ar? 


acrobat  himself  bore  testimony  to  his 
ability.  "I  get  a  good  living  out  of 
this  leg,'*  he  said,  "and  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  do  if  it  was  to  stiffen 
up  on  me."  He  sighed  and  looked 
anxiously  at  William  King,  who  had 
stopped  at  the  barn  door  to  ask  how 
he  was  getting  along. 

"If  you  keep  quiet,  you'll  come  out. 
all  right,"  Willy  said,  gruffly;  "but 
if  I  were  you,  I'd  try  to  find  a  more 
decent  way  of  earning  my  living." 

Paul  laughed.  "  It's  decent  enough, ' ' 
he  said,  "  so  long  as  I'm  decent.  That's 
the  way  I  look  at  work: — your  trade's 
decent,  so  long  as  you  are.  It  isn't 
being  decent  troubles  me  —  though  I 
will  say  I  don't  like  to  hand  round  the 
hat.  Not  but  what  I've  a  right  to! 
I  do  good  work;  yes,  first-class  work. 
There  ain't  a  man  in  my  class  with 
two  legs,  let  alone  one,  that  can  touch 
30 


At* 


the  notch  I  do.  No,  sir!  I'm  proud 
of  my  profession.  But  the  trouble 
is—" 

"Well,  what's  the  trouble?"  the 
Doctor  said. 

"Why,  it's  so  uncertain,"  the  man 
explained.  "I  have  got  as  high  as 
$1.75  at  a  performance;  and  then, 
again,  I  won't  get  but  twenty  -five 
cents.  But  if  this  darned  knee  was 
to  stiffen  up  on  me— 

"It  won't,"  William  King  said; 
"but  I  should  think  you  could  do 
something  better  than  this,  anyhow." 

Paul  looked  perfectly  uncompre 
hending.  "But  I'm  Ai,"  he  insisted. 
"Before  my  accident  I  wa.s  'way  up 
in  the  profession.  You  don't  seem  to 
understand  :  —  I  was  a  star  !  Of  course 
it  is  a  come-down  to  travel  and  hand 
round  the  hat;  but  I'm  mighty  lucky 
I've  got  a  one-legged  profession,  as 


you  might  call  it,  to  fall  back  on,  to 
support  my  little  sister;  she's  an  in 
valid.  And  then,  I  do  get  good  oppor 
tunities,"  he  added. 

"Opportunities  to  perform?" 
"No,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  the  man 
answered,  briefly. 

"What  was  your  accident?"  said 
Willy  King.  He  had  come  in,  and- 
was  sitting  on  a  wheelbarrow;  Paul 
was  stretched  in  the  hay  in  front  of 
him.  Except  for  the  square  of  sun 
shine  just  within  the  wide  doorway,  the 
crumbling,  shadowy  old  barn  was  cool 
and  still,  but  outside  the  yellow  Septem 
ber  landscape  blazed  and  shimmered 
in  the  heat.  The  barn  was  deserted, 
for  the  cow  was  out  at  pasture;  now 
and  then  a  hen  walked  in  at  the  open 
door,  and  pecked  about  in  a  vain 
search  for  oats;  on  the  dusky  rafters 
overhead  some  pigeons  balanced  and 
32 


%  UabarctB  Arc 

cooed,  and  from  a  cobweb-covered 
window  a  dim  stream  of  sunshine  pour 
ed  down  on  the  man  lying  in  the  hay. 
Willy  King  took  off  his  hat  and  clasped 
his  hands  around  one  fat  knee.  '  *  How 
did  you  hurt  yourself?"  he  said. 

"Trapeze.  That  was  my  line.  Well, 
it  wasn't  just  an  accident.  There  was 
a  rope  cut  half  through — " 

"What!  You  don't  mean  on  pur 
pose?" 

"Well,  yes,"  the  man  said,  easily. 

»  j  j 

"I  guess  there  was  no  doubt  of  it. 
Well,  I  was  up  there  right  by  the 
main  pole—  My,  that's  a  sight!  I 
suppose  you  never  was  up  by  the 
main  pole  in  the  circus,  during  a 
performance?" 

"Well,  no,"  the  Doctor  admitted. 

"Yes,  it's  a  great  sight.  You  sit 
up  there  on  the  trapeze,  and  look  down 
at  all  the  rows  and  rows  of  faces,  and 
33 


Are 


you  can't  hear  anything  but  a  kind  of 
hum,  you're  up  so  high  —  right  up 
under  the  canvas;  you  can  hear  it, 
though,  flapping  and  booming,  crack 
ing  like  a  whip  once  in  a  while!  Half 
of  it  may  be  in  the  sun,  and  then  a 
big  shadow  on  half  of  it;  and  all  the 
people  looking  up  at  you,  and  the 
band  squeaking  away  down  below  for 
your  money's  worth  !  Yes,  it's  a  sight. 
Well,  that's  all  there  was  to  it.  I  saw 
the  rope  giving,  and  I  jumped  to  catch 
a  flyer;  and  I  missed  it.  But  I  wasn't 
killed.  Well,  it  was  wonderful  —  I 
wasn't  killed  !"  He  smiled  as  he  spoke, 
but  there  was  a  brooding  gravity  in 
his  face. 

When  Willy  King  left  his  patient, 
he  stopped  at  the  Jay  house  to  say 
that  Paul  was  getting  along  very  well; 
he  must  have  said  something  else,  too, 
for  when  he  went  home  he  presented 


Ult?re  111?  iCaharrrfi  AIT 

his  wife  with  a  sofa  pillow.  "Now, 
Willy,"  said  poor  Mrs.  William,  "this 
is  the  sixth!  Indeed,  I  do  think  it  is 
wrong  in  you  to  encourage  the  Jay 
girls  to  make  things  nobody  needs.  I. 
think  it  would  be  a  truer  kindness  to 
tell  them,  flatly  and  frankly,  that  you 
would  give  them  the  money  outright 
if  they  wanted  you  to,  but  you  would 
not  buy  things  you  didn't  want!" 

"It  would  hurt  their  feelings,"  the 
Doctor  objected. 

"My  dear,  truth  is  more  important 
than  feelings,"  said  Martha. 

William  changed  the  subject  hur 
riedly.  William  was  blond,  and  fat, 
and  very  amiable,  and  he  had  a  great 
respect  for  his  Martha's  common  sense. 
But  common  sense  palls  on  a  husband 
sometimes. 


•Mf 

-tf 


III 


improved  very  slowly;  the 
fact  was,  the  bam  was  comfort 
able  and  the  perfect  cure  of  the  knee 
important,  so  with  simple  confidence 
in  the  hospitality  of  the  three  ladies, 
he  gave  himself  up  to  the  pleasure  of 
convalescence.  And  it  was  certainly 
pleasant.  The  Misses  Jay  were  very 
kind  to  him.  Miss  Henrietta  visited 
him  every  morning,  bringing  his  break 
fast,  and  telling  him  many  times  how, 
when  she  was  a  little  girl,  she  had  been 
taken  by  a  servant  to  the  circus. 
"Persons  of  that  class,"  said  Miss 
Henrietta,  "care  for  such  entertain- 
36 


Are 

ments,  you  know.  Well,  I  saw  a 
young  lady  ride  on  a  horse  without  any 
saddle!  It  was  really  wonderful.  I've 
never  forgotten  it."  And  then,  after 
this  politely  personal  reminiscence,  she 
would  talk  to  him  about  her  poor  pussy, 
whose  affection  and  intelligence  grad 
ually  assumed  abnormal  proportions. 
Sometimes,  as  she  carried  his  plate 
away,  she  would  stop  and  call  feebly, 
"Jacky,  Jacky! — You  know  he  might 
be  lying  sick  under  the  barn/'  she 
explained  to  Paul,  who  was  very  sym 
pathetic.  Miss  Maggy  went  every  day 
before  dinner  to  inquire  for  his  "  limb." 
As  for  Miss  Jane,  she  came  to  the  barn 
door  upon  any  excuse.  Into  the 
starved,  thin  life  of  little  Miss  Jane 
had  come  suddenly  an  interest.  Per 
haps  that  reference  to  the  stable  in 
Bethlehem  had  first  given  her  some 
thing  to  think  about.  It  had  been 
37 


startlingly  incongruous,  but  there  had 
been  nothing  offensive  in  it,  because 
it  was  so  simple;  indeed,  that  it  was 
the  natural  tenor  of  the  man's  thought 
was  obvious  at  once.  The  first  morn 
ing,  when  Miss  Henrietta  took  his 
breakfast  out  to  him,  she  found  him 
reading  his  Bible.  The  next  day  Miss 
Maggy,  hunting  for  eggs  in  the  shed, 
heard  some  one  singing,  and  listening/ 
caught  the  words: 

"Guide  me,  O  thou  Great  Jehovah, 

Pilgrim  through  this  barren  land. 
I  am  weak — " 

Then  there  was  a  pause.     Then  a  joy 
ous  burst :  "  yes ;  'but  Thou  art  mighty' 
—(I  bet  Thou  art!).''     And  then  the 
rest  of  it: 
"  Lead  me  with  Thy  powerful  hand!" 

Miss  Maggy,  who  had  the  unreason 
ing  emotion  of  the  fat,  repeated  this 


Are 


with  tears  to  her  sisters,  and  added 
that  perhaps  it  might  help  the  poor 
man  in  his  effort  to  be  a  Christian  to 
give  him  one  of  Great-grandfather 
Jay's  sermons  to  read.  Miss  Hen 
rietta  agreed  vaguely,  and  then  said 
she  knew  that  he  was  a  good-hearted 
person,  because  he  had  sympathized 
so  about  Jacky.  But  Miss  Jane, 
crocheting  rapidly,  thought  to  herself 
how  strange  it  was  that  a  man  who  had 
been  a  circus  rider  should  be  —  religious  ! 
The  fact  caught  her  interest,  just  as 
sometimes  a  point  in  a  wide,  dull 
landscape  catches  the  eye  —  perhaps 
the  far-off  window  of  some  unseen 
house  flaring  suddenly  with  the  sun 
and  speaking  a  hundred  mysteries  of 
invisible  human  living.  The  com 
monplace,  healthy  way  in  which,  once 
or  twice,  Paul  spoke  of  those  things 
which,  being  so  vital,  are  hidden  by 
39 


tte  Sabnma  Ar*  Stem 


M 

most  of  us,  was  a  shock  to  her  which 
was  awakening.  It  was  like  letting 
hot  sunshine  and  vigorous  wind  touch 
suddenly  some  delicate,  spindling  plants 
which  have  grown  always  in  the  dark. 
But  it  attracted  her  with  the  curious 
fascination  which  the  unusual,  even  if 
it  is  a  little  painful,  has  for  all  of  us. 
So  she  went  very  often  to  the  barn  to 
inquire  about  his  health.  Sometimes 
she  took  her  knitting  and  sat  on  the 
barn  door-step,  and  tried,  in  a  flutter 
ing  way,  to  make  him  talk.  This  was 
not  difficult;  the  acrobat  was  most 
cheerfully  talkative.  Propped  up  in 
the  hay,  he  watched  her,  and  some 
times  held  her  big,  loose  ball  of  double 
zephyr  in  his  hands,  unrolling  a  length 
or  two  in  answer  to  her  soft  jerk.  He 
told  her  about  his  " business"  and  the 
difficulties  of  his  "profession,"  and 
once  in  a  while,  very  simply,  there 
40 


ffiabarera  Ar? 


would  come  some  allusion  to  deeper 
things.  But  for  the  most  part  he  talk 
ed  about  being  "on  the  road."  He 
blushed  all  over  his  dark,  handsome 
face  when  he  said  that  he  had  to  hand 
round  the  hat  after  a  performance. 
"But  it's  for  sister  Alice,"  he  explain 
ed.  He  had  a  good  deal  to  say  about 
this  sister.  She  lived  out  in  Iowa,  he 
said,  and  he  didn't  believe  he'd  ever 
take  another  long  tramp  as  far  east  as 
Pennsylvania.  "It's  too  far  away. 
Alice  is  kind  of  sickly,  and  if  she  was 
to  be  taken  bad,  I  might  not  be  able 
to  get  back  in  a  hurry;  I  mightn't 
have  my  car-fare.  I'm  going  to  tramp 
it  home  in  October,  and  then  I  guess 
I'll  dwell  among  mine  own  people,  as 
David  says."  One  day  he  showed  her 
a  little  dog-eared  account-book  in 
which  he  kept  the  record  of  his  re 
ceipts  and  expenditures.  "  In  a  town, 
4  41 


tip  Hahnrera  Are  Stem 

I've  got  to  put  up  at  a  tavern  over 
night,  and  that  counts  up.  That's 
why  I  like  to  go  to  little  places  where 
there  are  barns.  Now  there's  Mercer 
on  that  page:  I  had  to  pay  for  a 
license  in  Mercer;  and  the  barkeepers, 
they  charge  too;  so  I  only  made  $i 
the  first  day,  and  75  cents  the  next, 
and  $1.20  the  last  day.  You'd  'a' 
thought  I'd  done  better  in  a  city, 
wouldn't  you  ?  On  that  page  opposite 
is  my  expenses.  See  ?  At  the  bottom 
of  the  page  is  what  I  sent  Alice  —  $3.25 
that  week.  I  sent  her  as  high  as  $5 
once." 

It  was  raining,  and  Jane  was  sitting 
just  inside  the  door;  she  ran  her  hand 
along  her  wooden  knitting-needles, 
and  then  took  the  account-book,  hold 
ing  it  nervously,  as  though  not  quite 
certain  what  to  do  with  it. 

"  I  made  most  of  that  $5,"  said  Paul, 

42 


• 

rtWWW***™ 


Hlpre  tlj*  ICabtfrem  Are 

"in  a  saloon  that  was  run  by  a  man 
by  the  name  of  Bloder." 

"I  shouldn't  think,"  Miss  Jane  said, 
hesitatingly,  "that  it  would  be  pleas 
ant  to — to  perform  in  .saloons?  I 
suppose  there  are  many — unrefined 
persons  in  saloons.  I  am  told  that 
gentlemen  in  such  places  are  some 
times  ' ' — she  hesitated — '  *  overcome. ' ' 

"Oh,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "saloons  are 
just  my  place!  I'd  rather  go  to  a 
saloon  than  have  three  open-air 
turns." 

Jane  Jay  shut  the  little  book  and 
handed  it  back  to  him;  there  was  a 
look  of  pain  about  her  delicate  lips. 
The  acrobat  glanced  at  her,  and  then 
his  dark  eyes  brimmed  with  laughter. 
"Bless  your  heart! — it's  because  them 
unrefined  gentlemen  are  there,  that  I 
go!  I  get  more  men  in  a  saloon, 
don't  you  see?  And  when  the  show's 

43 


Habuma  Are 


done,  I  get  a  hack  at  'em.  I  believe 
that  when  I  go  into  a  saloon,  dirty, 
like  as  not,  with  old  musty  sawdust  on 
the  floor  all  dripped  over  with  beer, 
and  a  lot  of  fellows  just  shaking  hands 
with  the  devil  —  I  believe  I'm  preach 
ing  to  the  spirits  in  prison." 

"Why,  do  you  mean,"  she  demand 
ed  —  "do  you  mean  that  you  talk— 
religion  in  those  places?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Why,  you  ought  to  be  a  clergy 
man!"  she  said,  impulsively. 

"I  wish  I  could  be,"  he  said,  with 
a  sigh.  "Of  course  that's  what  I 
aimed  for;  but  you  see,  with  Alice  to 
look  after  —  no,  I  don't  suppose  I 
could  ever  afford  it.  This  is  the  best  I 
can  do  —  to  talk  after  the  performances. 
But  it  isn't  like  having  a  church  with 
red  seats  and  a  pulpit.  But  my  vow 
was  to  be  a  preacher,  ma'am." 
44 


F* 


Wlpr*  tiit  Sab0r*r0  Are  Jtero 

"And  then  you  decided  to  be  a — to 
—to  give  performances?" 

"No,  ma'am;  'twas  like  this,"  he 
said.  "I  was  doing  trapeze  business. 
Well,  I  was  advertised  all  round;  you 
ought  to  have  seen  the  bill-boards, 
and  Signor  Paulo,  in  his  great  act, 
shooting  down  with  his  arms  folded — 
this  way — across  his  breast!  That 
was  me.  I  got  good  pay  those  days; 
and — and  I  was — well  ma'am,  I  was 
a  great  sinner.  I  was  the  chief  of 
sinners.  Well,  I  had  enemies  in  my 
line:  a  star  always  has.  The  greater 
you  are,"  said  the  acrobat,  with  per 
fect  simplicity,  "the  more  folks  envy 
you.  So  somebody  cut  a  rope  half 
through  right  up  under  the  canvas. 
The  ropes  are  tested  before  every  per 
formance,  so  it  must  have  been  a  quick 
job  for  the  fellow  that  did  it.  I  was 
sitting  up  there,  and  I  seen  the  rope 
45 


tif?  Slahnmfi  Arc 

giving.  Well,  I  don't  know;  I  don't 
know" — his  voice  dropped,  and  he 
looked  past  her  with  rapt,  unseeing 
eyes — "it  was  a  vision,  I  guess:  7 
seen  my  sin.  'My  God!'  I  said,  out 
loud.  I  don't  know  to  this  day  if  it 
was  because  I  was  scared  of  being 
killed,  or  scared  of  my  sin.  Of  course 
nobody  could  hear  me — the  horses 
tearing  round  the  ring,  and  mademoi 
selle  jumping  through  fire-hoops,  and 
the  band  playing  away  for  dear  life. 
Well — it  was  jump,  anyhow;  so  I  just 
yelled  out,  '  You  save  me,  and  I'll  give 
You  the  credit!'  Then  I  jumped." 

"Oh!"  said  Jane,  panting,  and  knit 
ting  very  fast. 

"Well,  that  was  all  there  was  to  it. 
He  saved  me.  And  there  was  my  bar 
gain  with  Him.  At  first,  seeing  that 
my  leg  had  to  go,  I  wasn't  just  sure 
we  was  even;  and  then  I  says  to  my- 
46 


tip  Slabarnra  Are 

self:  'Yes;  He  saved  me.  He  only 
just  gave  me  a  pinch  in  the  leg,  for 
fear  I'd  get  too  stuck  up,  starring,  and 
forget  my  bargain.'  I  don't  know  as 
I  would  have  seen  it  right  off,  but  a 
minister  came  to  see  me  a  good  deal 
in  the  hospital,  and  he  gave  me  a  lot 
of  ideas.  He  just  pointed  out  that 
so  long  as  my  life  was  saved,  my  bar 
gain  was  good.  'You  give  God  the 
glory  wherever  you  go,'  he  said — which 
is  the  church  way  of  saying  give  Him 
the  credit,  you  know.  Well,  at  first 
I  took  it  to  be  that  I'd  preach,  re 
spectably,  in  a  church;  I've  a  good 
deal  of  a  gift  in  talking.  But  it 
wasn't  to  be,"  he  ended,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Why  not  ?"  Jane  demanded,  boldly. 
In  her  interest  she  rolled  her  work  up 
in  her  black  silk  apron,  and  came  and 
sat  down  beside  him  in  the  hay.  Paul 
turned  a  little  on  his  side,  and  leaning 

47 


'L 


IGahnrcra  Are 


on  his  elbow,  looked  up  at  her,  his  dark, 
gentle  eyes  smiling.  She  would  not 
have  known  how  to  say  it,  but  she  felt 
a  dull  envy  of  the  passion  and  emotion 
that  had  illuminated  his  face.  She 
wished  he  would  talk  some  more  about 
— things.  It  was  as  if  her  numb, 
chilled  mind  tried  to  crouch  closer  to 
the  warmth  of  his  vital  personality. 
She  bent  forward  as  she  talked  to  him, 
and  her  breath  came  quicker.  "I 
don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  be  a 
clergyman,"  she  said. 

"Well,  I  haven't  any  education," 
he  explained.  "I  couldn't  stand  up 
in  a  real  church,  with  nice  red  cush 
ions,  and  talk.  You  see,  I  don't  know 
things  that  church  people  want  to 
hear.  I  don't  understand  about  elec 
tion,  and  foreordination,  and  those 
things.  You've  got  to  have  an  edu 
cation  for  a  church ;  and  an  education 
48 


Ar? 


costs  money.  And  then  there's  Alice: 
I  can't  stop  earning,  you  see."  He 
lapsed  into  silence,  and  Jane  was 
silent  too.  But  she  looked  at  him 
again  sidewise,  and  the  beauty  of  his 
large  frame  —  the  broad,  deep  chest, 
the  grace  and  vigor  of  the  long  line 
from  the  shoulder  to  the  knee,  the 
powerful  arm  and  wrist  —  held  her 
eyes. 

"My  knee's  getting  on,"  he  said, 
suddenly;  "and  I  think  I  can  make  a 
start  in  another  week;  but  before  I 
go  I  want  to  have  a  performance  for 
you  and  the  other  two  ladies  —  and 
any  of  your  lady  friends  you'd  like  to 
invite  in.  I'll  give  you  the  best  show 
I've  got,"  he  said,  his  face  eager  and 
handsome,  and  all  alert  to  return  favor 
with  favor,  and  to  reveal  the  possibili 
ties  of  his  profession. 

"Oh,  you  are  very  kind,"  Miss  Jane 
49 


TJt 


JUlym  tljr 


Arr 


said,  with  a  start;  "I'll  tell  my 
sisters.  They'll  be  very  much  in 
terested,  I  know;  but  —  but  I'd  like  it 
better  for  you  just  to  preach." 

"I  guess  you  ladies  don't  need  my 
kind  of  preaching,"  he  answered,  good- 
naturedly;  "you're  'way  up  above 
that,  you  know.  You're  all  ready  to 
hear  about  the  Trinity,  and  how  much 
a  cubit  is,  and  what  a  centurion  is, 
and  free  will  —  and  all  those  things. 
If  I  ever  get  my  education,  and  know 
'em,  I'll  invite  you  to  come  to  my 
church.  But  now  I'll  just  have  to 
stick  to  the  gospel,  I  guess." 


:. 


IV 


THOSE  were  strange  days  to  Miss 
Jane  Jay.  Into  the  even  dulness 
of  knitting  afghans,  and  bemoaning 
Jacky,  and  wondering  whether  the 
weather  would  be  this  or  that,  had 
come  the  jar  of  vigorous  living,  as 
vulgar  as  the  honest  earth — loud, 
courageous,  full  of  toil  and  sweat  and 
motion.  Once,  walking  home  in  the 
rainy  dusk,  she  stopped  before  a  de 
serted  cow-shed  by  the  roadside,  on 
which,  long  ago,  had  been  pasted  a 
circus  advertisement.  It  was  torn  at 
one  corner,  and  was  flapping  idly  in 
the  wind.  The  colors  were  washed 
5T 


and  faded  by  summer  rains,  and  some 
boys  had  thrown  mud  at  it,  but  Miss 
Jane  could  still  see  the  picture  of  a 
man  hanging  by  one  arm  from  a 
trapeze,  ready  for  the  downward  dive. 

"Mr.  Phillips  used  to  do  that,"  she 
thought.  She  called  him  Mr.  Phillips, 
not  Paul,  as  the  others  did  in  their 
familiar  and  condescending  kindness. 
She  was  glad  he  did  not  do  those 
things  now:  the  preaching  lifted  him 
to  another  plane  in  her  mind. 

The  other  sisters  were  interested  in 
Paul  too,  but  the  atrophy  of  years 
cannot  be  easily  vitalized,  and  they 
did  not  think  very  much  about  him. 
Maggy  had  her  grim  pantry  pre 
occupations.  Henrietta  was  absorbed 
in  patiently  trying  to  accustom  her 
self  to  Jacky's  loss.  She  used  to  sit 
making  baby  socks  hour  after  hour, 
her  poor  vague  fancy  picturing  the 
52 


pussy's  wanderings  and  sufferings, 
until  for  very  wretchedness  the  slow, 
painful  tears  would,  rise  and  blur  the 
crocheting  in  her  wrinkled  hands. 
Still,  she  listened  sympathetically  when 
Jane  told  her  this  or  that  of  Mr. 
Phillips;  and  both  she  and  Maggy 
were  especially  moved  when  they  heard 
of  his  desire  to  preach  the  gospel. 

"I  think  he'd  make  a  good  clergy 
man — he's  kind  to  animals,"  said  Miss 
Henrietta,  sighing.  "I  saw  him  pat 
ting  Clover  the  other  night.  Oh  dear, 
how  he  would  have  loved  Jacky!" 

Miss  Maggy  nodded  approvingly, 
and  said  again  that  it  was  very  nice 
for  a  poor  person  to  be  religious. 
"Perhaps  I'll  copy  one  of  Great 
grandfather  Jay's  sermons  for  him, 
and  he  can  take  it  away  with  him, 
and  read  it  aloud  after  his  perform 
ances — though  perhaps  he  ought  to 
53 


ittr  Uabflms  Ar* 

have  a  license  for  a  bishop's  sermon," 
she  added,  doubtfully.  "As  for  his 
performing  for  us" — for  Miss  Jane  had 
repeated  Paul's  offer — "I  suppose  it 
would  seem  ungracious  not  to  let  him 
do  it." 

But  when  the  day  came  that  Paul's 
knee  was  strong  enough  for  gym 
nastics,  the  two  older  ladies  were  really 
quite  interested  in  his  "show,"  as  he 
called  it.  "He  is  going  to  do  it  to 
night,"  Miss  Maggy  said;  "and  he 
says  that  it  will  be  in  the  finest  style! 
He  said  he  would  wear  tights.  I  didn't 
like  to  ask  him  what  they  were,  as  it 


is  not,   I  think,  delicate  to  refer  to 


any  special  garment  of  a — a  gentle 
man's  wardrobe;  but  I  did  wonder." 

"It  means  stays,  I  suppose,"  said 
Miss  Henrietta.  "I  don't  see  why  he 
mentioned  them,  I'm  sure." 

"Oh,  well,  a  person  in  Paul's  walk 


54 


UUpr*  tljr  Eahnrms  Ar? 

of  life  does  not  realize  the  impropriety 
of  such  an  allusion  before  ladies,"  said 
Miss  Maggy,  kindly.  "You  can't  ex 
pect  him  to  make  delicate  distinctions. 
I  hope  he's  not  disappointed  because 
we  are  not  asking  any  one  in;  but  we 
couldn't  do  that,  we  would  have  to 
provide  refreshments  aftenvards.  Hen 
rietta,  would  you  put  a  white  border 
on  this  baby  blanket,  or  a  blue  one?" 

"I  think,"  said  Jane,  breathing 
quickly,  "that  Mr.  Phillips  is  just  as 
delicate  as  any  one." 

"I  like  blue  best,"  Miss  Henrietta 
said. 

Jane's  hands  trembled,  and  she  put 
her  knitting  down.  "I'm  going  to 
ask  him  if  he  doesn't  want  another 
lamp  for  to-night.  We  can  let  him 
have  two,"  she  said,  indifferent  to 
poor  Miss  Maggy's  sigh  that  it  would 
use  up  a  good  deal  of  oil.  She  went 
55 


Uffwr?  tiff  Kabtfrrrjg  Ar? 


swiftly  down  the  garden  to  the  stable, 
where  Paul  welcomed  her  with  en 
thusiasm,  and  asked  her  if  she  didn't 
think  he  had  made  things  look  pretty 
nicely.  "I  feel  nervous  about  my 
knee,"  he  said,  "but  I'm  mostly  wor 
ried  for  fear  I  won't  do  my  best  this 
evening.  It's  more  embarrassing  to 
have  a  little  select  audience  like  your 
sisters,  than  a  big  dress  circle."  His 
tone  seemed  to  range  her  on  his  side,  as 
opposed  to  the  "  audience,"  and  she  was 
conscious  of  a  new  and  distinct  feeling  of 
responsibility  that  was  almost  anxiety. 
She  told  him  about  the  lamps,  and 
advised  him  as  to  which  end  of  the 
open  space  between  the  stalls  and  the 
feed-bins  should  be  the  stage.  In  a 
flurried  way  she  laughed  until  the 
tears  came  into  her  eyes,  at  some  of 
his  jokes,  and  she  asked  questions, 
and  even  made  one  or  two  suggestions. 
56 


Perhaps  she  had  never  been  so  excited 
in  her  life. 

Then  she  went  back  to  the  house. 
''We'll  put  on  our  best  dresses,''  she 
said  to  her  sisters,  breathlessly. 

"Oh,  Janie,  not  to  go  and  sit  in  the 
barn?"  protested  Miss  Maggy. 

"  I  will,"  Miss  Jane  said,  with  spirit. 
"  I  think  it's  only  polite.  And  please, 
girls,  each  of  you  bring  your  bedroom 
candle  over  with  you.  He  says  he 
wants  as  much  light  as  possible.  Oh 
dear!  he  is  so  superior  to  his  profes 
sion!"  she  burst  out,  her  face  flushing. 

The  best  clothes  were  wonderingly 
conceded  by  the  two  older  sisters,  and 
after  tea,  in  the  September  dusk  be 
fore  the  moon  rose,  the  three  Misses 
Jay  stepped  out  across  the  yard  to 
the  barn.  Each  had  a  lighted  candle 
in  her  hand,  and  each  held  up  her 
petticoats  carefully,  and  walked  grave- 
57 


ly,   with  a  troubled  consciousness  of 
the  unusualness  of  the  occasion. 

The  barn  was  very  bright :  Paul  had 
borrowed  some  lanterns  from  a  neigh 
bor,  and  added  two  or  three  he  had 
found  in  the  loft  and  all  the  lamps 
Jane  could  bring  him  from  the  house. 
The  narrow  space  in  front  of  the  stalls 
was  swept  and  garnished,  and  at  its 
farther  end  were  three  chairs,  each 
with  a  bunch  of  goldenrod  tied  on  the 
back.  The  lanterns  swung  from  the 
rafters,  the  lamps  stood  on  the  tops 
of  the  feed-bins,  and  the  three  bed 
room  candles  were  deposited,  at  Jane's 
command,  on  three  upturned  buckets 
in  front  of  what  was  evidently  Paul's 
end  of  the  open  space.  When  the 
sisters  entered  there  was  a  rustle  among 
the  pigeons  overheard,  and  the  cow 
stopped  rubbing  her  neck  against  her 
stanchion,  and  looked  at  them  with 


58 

*» 

Pi 


mild,  wondering  eyes;  then  drew  a 
long,  fragrant  sigh,  and  went  on  chew 
ing  her  cud. 

1  'This  is  very  strange,"  said  Miss 
Henrietta. 

"It  is  very  exciting,"  murmured 
Miss  Maggy,  nervously. 

The  gleam  of  all  the  lights,  the 
candle-flames  bending  and  flaring  in 
wandering  draughts,  the  gigantic  shad 
ows  lurking  among  the  rafters,  the 
silence  —  except  for  Clover's  soft 
breaths — Paul's  impressive  absence — 
were  all  strange,  almost  alarming. 

As  for  Miss  Jane,  she  looked  around 
her  but  said  nothing. 

"Shall  we  sit  down?"  Miss  Maggy 
asked,  in  a  whisper.  "Where  is  he, 
Janie?" 

"He  will  come  in  a  few  moments," 
said  Jane.     "Yes,  sit  down,  please!" 
She  spoke  authoritively. 
59 


She  went  over  to  the  bin  to  turn  up 
ne  of  the  lamps,  and  looked,  with 
anxious  responsibility,  toward  the  un 
used  stall  which  Paul  had  told  her  was 
to  be  his  dressing-room.  Suppose  he 
didn't  do  well?  She  was  nervous  to 
have  him  begin  and  get  through  with  it. 

Suddenly,  back  in  the  shadows, 
Paul  began  to  whistle: 

"I'm  dreaming  now  of  Hallie — 
Sweet  Hallie,  sweet  Hallie;" 

then  he  came  bounding  out,  bowed, 
whirled  round  on  his  crutch,  and  stood 
still,  laughing.  Jane  caught  her  breath, 
her  feet  and  hands  grew  cold ;  the  other 
sisters  murmured,  agitatedly.  .  .  .  Paul 
was  clothed  in  his  black  tights  and 
scarlet  breech-cloth;  a  small  scarlet 
cap  was  set  side  wise  on  his  head,  and 
his  crutch  was  wound  with  scarlet 
ribbons. 

60 


"LADIES."  HE  BEGAN.  "I  SHALL  HAVE  THE  PLEASURE 


Sahnma  Are 


"  Ladies,"  he  began,  "I  shall  have 
the  pleasure  —  " 

"I  really  think—  I  really  feel—" 
said  Miss  Maggy,  rising. 

"I  —  I'm  afraid,  perhaps  —  such  a 
costume  —  "  murmured  Miss  Henri 
etta. 

Paul  looked  at  them  in  astonishment. 
"Is  anything  wrong,  ladies?  If  you'll 
just  be  seated,  I'll  begin  at  once." 

"  Do  sit  down,"  Miss  Jane  entreated, 
faintly;  "people  always  dress  —  that 
way." 

The  two  older  sisters  stared  at  her 
in  amazement.  "But,  Janie  —  "  whis 
pered  Miss  Henrietta. 

"You  can  go,"  said  Jane,  "but  I 
shall  stay.  I  think  it's  unkind  to 
criticise  his  clothes." 

"If  he  only  had  some  clothes," 
Miss  Maggy  answered,  in  despair. 
But  they  sat  down.  They  could  not 
61 


tip  £ab0r?rj0i  Ar? 

go  and  leave  Jane;  it  would  have  been 
an  impropriety.  As  for  Paul,  he 
plunged  at  once  into  his  perform 
ance,  with  his  running  commentary 
of  fun  and  jokes.  Always  beginning, 
"Ladies!"  Once  inadvertently  he 
added,  "and  gentlemen,"  but  stopped, 
with  some  embarrassment,  to  explain 
that  he  got  so  used  to  his  "patter" 
that  he  just  ran  it  off  without  think 
ing.  His  agility  and  strength  and 
grace  were  really  remarkable,  but  Jane 
Jay  watched  him  with  hot  discomfort ; 
once,  when  he  turned  a  somersault,  as 
lightly  as  a  thistle  seed  is  blown  from 
its  stalk,  she  looked  away.  But  the 
rest  of  the  "audience"  began  to  be 
really  interested  and  a  little  excited. 
"Just  see  that!"  Miss  Maggy  kept  say 
ing.  "Isn't  it  wonderful?" 

"But  if  any  one  should  call,"  Miss 
Henrietta  whispered,  "I  should  swoon 
62 


Are  Stem 


with  embarrassment.  Still,  I  am  sure 
it's  very  creditable.  Once,  when  I  was 
a  child,  I  went  to  the  circus  with  one 
of  the  servants,  and  saw  a  man  jump 
that  way." 

Jane's  face  was  stinging.  "I  don't 
like  it  at  all,"  she  said,  under  her 
breath.  She  looked  at  one  of  the 
lamps  on  the  feed-bin  until  it  blurred 
and  made  the  water  stand  in  her  eyes. 
"Oh,  I  wish  he  would  stop!"  she  said 
to  herself. 

"If,"  said  Paul,  "any  lady  in  the 
audience  would  care  to  hold  a  hat  up 
above  my  head,  I  would  demonstrate 
a  high  kick!" 

"I  will,  Mr.  Phillips,"  Miss  Jane 
said,  briefly. 

"Oh,  Janie!"  said  Miss  Henrietta. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  really  —  "  murmured 
Miss  Maggy. 

"  If  you'll  stand  on  this  bin,  ma'am," 
63 


. .-  •  -. ,?. 


-' 


said  Paul,  taking  off  his  cap  with  a 
sweeping  bow. 

For  just  an  instant  Jane  hesitated, 


which  gave  Miss  Maggy  the  chance  to 
say,  "Oh,  Jane,  my  dear — really,  I 
think— I  don't  think- 

"I  sha'n't  mind  in  the  least,"  said 
Miss  Jane,  haughtily ;"  I — I'll  enjoy  it." 

"Well,  wait,"  Maggy  entreated;  "if 
you  must  do  it,  let  me  run  back  to  the 
house  and  bring  over  my  old  gray 
skirt.  I'm  taller  than  you  are,  and 
if  you  put  it  on,  it  will  be  long  enough 
to  hide  your  feet." 

Miss  Jane  nodded.  "I'll  come  in  a 
moment,  Mr.  Phillips,"  she  said,  in  a 
fluttered  voice;  and  when  Miss  Maggy, 
very  much  out  of  breath,  brought  the 
skirt,  she  slipped  it  on,  and  would 
have  climbed  on  to  the  bin;  but  Paul, 
springing  forward,  knelt,  and  put  out 
his  hand.  "Step  on  that,"  he  said; 
64 


Uijm  %  3Gah0rerfi  Are 


"up  you  go!" — and  up  she  went,  like  a 
bird,  thrilling  at  the  lift  of  his  power 
ful  wrist.  She  stood  there  on  the  bin, 
the  long  folds  of  Miss  Maggy's  gray 
skirt  hanging  in  clumsy  modesty  about 
her  feet,  and  held  out  the  hat.  She 
was  breathless  from  that  springing 
jump  from  Paul's  hand,  but  her  face 
was  stern  and  set;  in  spite  of  the  thrill, 
she  was  miserably  ashamed.  The  two 
other  sisters  gaped  up  at  her  appre 
hensively,  but  with  undisguised  in 
terest.  Paul,  however,  did  not  share 
the  emotions  of  the  moment;  he 
leaped  over  three  chairs  arranged  in  a 
pyramid,  twirled  round  on  his  crutch, 
and  then,  with  a  bound  up  into  the 
air,  lifted  the  hat  out  of  Jane's  ner 
vous  hand  with  his  foot.  Then  he 
stopped,  by  force  of  habit,  to  wait  for 
applause;  but  the  two  ladies  before 
him  only  said,  faintly,  "Dear  me!" 
65 


Jane,  gathering  up  the  long  skirt  in 
her  hands,  looked  down  at  him  and 
saw  the  disappointment  in  his  face; 
she  said  nothing;  but  instantly  he 
kissed  his  hand  to  her,  and  bowed  so 
low  that  the  scarlet  cockade  on  his 
cap  swept  the  floor;  his  dark  eyes, 
looking  into  hers,  caught  the  flare 
of  the  candle-light  in  a  sudden  flash. 

Jane  Jay's  heart  came  up  in  her 
throat. 

That  was  the  end  of  the  show.  The 
three  candles  of  the  footlights  were 
burning  with  a  guttering  flame;  the 
cow  was  lying  down  in  her  stall ;  the 
pigeons  had  stopped  their  rustling  coo ; 
Paul,  out  of  breath,  but  very  much 
pleased  with  the  condition  of  his  knee, 
sat  on  one  of  the  overturned  buckets 
and  fanned  himself. 

"This  is  the  time  you  preach,  isn't 
it,  Mr.  Phillips?"  Miss  Jane  said.  It 
66 


Hl|m  tii?  SJabarcrjS  Ar? 

was  as  if  she  were  trying  to  bring  him 
back  to  his  true  self. 

"When  I  get  through  a  perform 
ance  ?  Yes,  ma'am.  People  are  pretty 
good-natured  then,  and  willing  to 
listen,  you  know." 

He  laughed  as  he  spoke.  There 
was  always  a  laugh  ready  to  bubble 
over  when  he  talked. 

"It  is  a  pity,"  said  Miss  Henrietta, 
vaguely,  "that  Paul's  circumstances 
in  life  did  not  permit  him  to  study  for 
the  ministry." 

"That's  so,"  said  Paul;  "but  my 
folks  couldn't  have  afforded  it  when 
I  was  growing  up,  even  if  I'd  had  a 
mind  to — which  I  didn't,  till  I  was  con 
verted,  and  I  was  twenty-four  then." 

"It  isn't  too  late  yet,  is  it?"  said 

Maggy,     sympathetically.      "Perhaps 

Doctor  Lavendar  could  help  you  to  get 

a  scholarship  somewhere.     I  know  he 

67 


Arc 

)te  letters  about  a  scholarship  when 
the  Smith's  oldest  boy  wanted  to  go 
to  college." 

Jane's  face  flushed  suddenly.  "I 
never  thought  of  that !  Why,  Mr.  Phil 
lips — why  shouldn't  you  study  now?" 

Paul  had  stopped  fanning  himself, 
and  was  listening.  "I've  heard  of 
scholarships,"  he  said,  "but  I  never 
had  anybody  to  put  me  in  the  way 
of  them." 

Miss  Jane,  in  her  excited  interest, 
had  not  noticed  that  her  sisters  had 
risen  and  were  waiting  for  her.  "  Come, 
Janie,"  they  murmured;  and  Jane 
came,  reluctantly.  "You  must  see 
Doctor  Lavendar  to-morrow,"  she  said, 
as  they  drew  her  away.  "Oh,  I  be- 

§lieve  you  can  do  it!" 
'j's 
And  as  the  three  sisters,  with  their 

empty    candlesticks   in   their   hands, 

walked  back  in  the  moonlight  to  their 

68 


^ 


own  door,  she  said  again  and  again, 
"Yes,  he  must  be  a  clergyman — he 
must!" 

Miss  Maggy  smiled  indulgently,  and 
said  that  she  supposed  Janie  had  it  in 
her  blood  to  work  for  the  church. 
''Great-grandfather  Jay  was  always 
encouraging  young  men  to  enter  the 
ministry,"  she  said,  "and  Janie  in 
herits  it,  I  suppose."  And  then  Miss 
Maggy  said  that  she  was  worried  to 
death  because  she  didn't  think  the 
new  pink  worsted  was  a  good  match 
for  the  pink  they  had  been  using. 

When  Miss  Jane  went  to  her  room 
she  was  too  excited  to  go  to  bed; 
there  was  a  spot  of  color  in  her  cheeks, 
and  her  eyes  shone:  a  clergyman!  yes; 
why  not? 

It  seemed  to  Miss  Jane,  because  of 
the  beating  of  her  heart  and  the  swell 
ing  of  her  throat,  that  her  hope  for 
69 


ICahnrcra  Are  3fl>tu 

Paul  was  zeal  for  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
How  much  good  he  would  do  if  he 
only  were  a  clergyman;  if  he  had 
a  church,  and  wore  a  surplice!  He 
would  talk  differently  then,  and  not 
say  "ain't";  and  he  would  take  din 
ner  with  Doctor  Lavendar,  and  go  to 
Mrs.  Dale's  for  tea;  and — and  Doctor 
Lavendar  was  getting  old,  and  by 
the  time  Mr.  Phillips  took  orders, 
perhaps  he  might  have  to  have  an 
assistant!  Imagination,  leaping  bold 
ly  into  the  future,  made  her  feel  a 
little  faint.  She  sat  down  and  leaned 
her  elbows  on  the  window-sill,  and 
looked  out  into  the  misty  Septem 
ber  night.  She  could  see  the  black 
pitch-roof  of  the  stable,  where  a  lamp 
was  still  burning.  It  came  to  her  that 
perhaps  Paul  was  kneeling  there. 
Something  lifted  in  her  like  a  wave. 
She  felt  a  strange  longing  for  tears; 
70 


Uter?  the  HaharerH  Are 

>  » 


she,  too,  wanted  to  pray,  to  cry  out 
for  something — she  knew  not  what: — 
for  pardon  for  her  sins,  or  for  death 
and  heaven.  Perhaps — perhaps  she 
was  being  "  converted  "  ?  Mr.  Phillips 
had  used  the  word  often,  but  she  had 
not  understood  it  until  now.  She 
said  to  herself  that  she  loved  her 
vSaviour.  "Oh,"  she  said,  in  a  broken, 
breathless  way — "oh,  I  am  a  great 
sinner!  But  he  has  converted  me." 
In  the  exaltation  of  the  moment  she 
did  not  stop  to  search  the  blank  white 
page  of  her  life  to  find  a  stain.  Through 
her  numb  thought,  this  sword-thrust 
of  emotion  had  pierced  to  the  very 
quick.  She  called  it  "  religion,"  for  her 
virgin  soul  knew  no  other  word.  She 
suffered.  She  began  to  live. 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and,  kneeling  down,  prayed  passion 
ately. 

71 


V 


PAUL  PHILLIPS  was  to  set  out 
on  the  road  the  next  day;  but 
the  hope  that  had  leaped  up  at  Miss 
Maggy 's  words  made  him  eager  to 
follow  the  suggestion  of  seeing  Doctor 
Lavendar. 

Jane  Jay,  her  face  pale,  but  full  of 
some  exalted  consciousness,  went  early 
to  the  rectory  and  told  the  story  of 
Paul  and  his  aspirations.  "It  is  very 
interesting,"  Doctor  Lavendar  said— 
"very  interesting.  Of  course  I'll  see 
him.  Jane,  my  dear,  it  is  wonderful, 
as  you  say.  The  Lord  is  able  to  raise 
up  children  to  Abraham  out  of — any- 
72 


£*Iuir*rB  Are  Jforo 


thing!  Send  him  along.  Tell  him  to 
be  here  at  ten  o'clock." 

Jane  went  back  to  the  stable  and 
gave  Paul  the  message.  He  was  kneel 
ing  down,  packing  his  few  possessions 
in  his  knapsack,  unwinding  the  scarlet 
ribbons  from  his  crutch,  and  taking 
the  cockade  out  of  his  cap.  He  looked 
up  anxiously.  "Does  he  think  —  "  he 
began. 

"You  are  to  go  and  see  him  at  ten, 
Mr.  Phillips,"  she  said;  "and  —  you 
will  be  a  clergyman!"  Paul  drew  a 
long  breath  and  went  on  with  his  pack 
ing;  but  there  was  a  light  in  his 
eyes. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "some 
times  it  seems  to  me  that  our  disap 
pointments  are  His  appointments? 
Just  drop  the  dis,  you  know.  It  makes 
'em  real  pleasant  to  look  at  them  that 
way.  It  was  a  disappointment  to 
6  73 


iCahams  Ar* 


wrench  my  knee  ;  there's  no  use  deny 
ing  it;  and  yet  look  what  may  come 
out  of  it!  I  bet  it  was  His  appoint 
ment."  He  gave  a  smiling  upward 
look  of  the  frankest,  most  good- 
humored  affection,  as  though  com 
muning  with  Some  One  she  did  not 
see. 

Miss  Jane  watched  him  without 
speaking.  She  stood  leaning  against 
the  feed-bin,  twisting  a  bit  of  straw 
nervously,  looking  at  him,  and  then 
looking  away. 

"  You  will  be  a  clergyman,"  she  said 
again,  in  a  low  voice.  "But  I  want 
you  to  know  now  —  I  want  to  tell 


Paul  had  risen,  and  got  his  crutch 
under  his  arm;  but  there  was  some 
thing  in  her  voice  that  made  him 
look  at  her  keenly;  then,  instantly, 
he  turned  his  eyes  away. 
74 


"I  want  you  to  know — that  I — oh 
—until  you  came  I  never  thought 
anything — mattered.  I  never  really 
cared;  though  I  went  to  church,  and 
my  father  was  a  clergyman,  and  Great 
grandfather  Jay  was  a  bishop.  But 
I— I  didn't  really—"  She  faltered, 
trembling  very  much,  her  throat  swell 
ing  again,  and  her  face  illumined. 
"  You've  made  me — religious,  I  think," 
she  ended,  in  a  whisper. 

"  I  thank  the  Lord  if  He's  spoken  a 
word  through  me,"  the  man  said,  ten 
derly;  but  he  did  not  look  into  her 
face. 

Miss  Jane  went  away  hurriedly,  run 
ning,  almost,  poor  girl,  to  her  own 
room ;  there  she  lay  upon  her  bed,  face 
downward,  trembling.  She  said  to  her 
self  that  she  loved  her  Saviour,  that 
she  was  converted.  She  was  very 
happy. 

75 


Xltlpr?  %  ffiaburera  Ar? 


When  Paul  came  limping  into  the 
ctory,  the  old  clergyman  gave  him 
a  steady  look;  then  all  his  face  soft 
ened  and  brightened,  and  he  took  his 
hand  in  both  his  own.  "Sit  down," 
he  said,  "  and  we'll  have  a  pipe.  Well, 
you  had  an  ugly  fall,  didn't  you? 
How's  your  knee?" 

"Well,  the  darned  thing's  all  right 
now,"  said  Paul,  with  his  kindling 
smile,  "but  it's  been  slow  enough.  -I 
don't  know  what  I  would  have  done 
if  the  ladies  hadn't  been  so  good  to 


me. 
" 


And  you  are  starting  out  again 
now,  are  you?"  said  Doctor  Lavendar. 
"Oh,  that's  my  dog,  Danny.     Danny, 
give  your  paw,  sir,  like  a  gentleman." 
Paul  seized  the  dog  by  the  scruf  of 
the  neck  and  put  him  on  his  knee. 
"Ain't  he  a  fine  one?"  he  said,  chuck 
ling.     "  Look  at  him  licking  my  finger ! 
76 


«°  \£ 


$Uljm  tlj?  !Cab0rer0  Are 


Yes,  sir;  I'm  going  on  the  road  again; 
but  Miss  Jane  Jay,  she  told  me  that 
maybe  you  could  put  me  in  the  way 
of  getting  an  education,  so  as  I  could 
be  a  preacher. " 

"But  I  understand  you  do  preach 
now?"  said  Doctor  Lavendar. 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  not  properly.  I  just 
talk  to  'em.  Plain  man  to  man.  I 
get  at  them  after  I've  given  a  show  on 
the  road  or  in  the  saloons.  But — it's 
a  hard  line,  sir.  I — used  to  be  a  drink 
ing  man  myself,"  he  ended,  in  a  low 
voice. 

The  old  minister  nodded.  "You 
go  right  into  the  enemy's  country?" 

"Yes,"  Paul  said,  briefly. 

"It  gives  you  a  hold  on  'em?"  Doc 
tor  Lavendar  suggested. 

"That's  so,"  Paul  said.  "I  some 
times  think  if  I  hadn't  been  there  my 
self  I  wouldn't  know  how  to  put  it  to 
77 


tty  ICatmrera  Ar? 

them.  Still,"  he  said,  thoughtfully, 
"you  can't  apply  that  doctrine  gen 
erally.  It  would  be  kind  of  danger 
ous.  We  don't  want  to  sin  that  grace 
may  abound.  Well,  it's  mixing.  You 
see,  that's  where  I  feel  the  need  of  an 
education,  sir.  That,  and  people  going 
down  to  the  pit:  the  pit  ain't  just 
according  to  my  ideas  of  fairness." 

"  How  do  you  explain  those  things  ?" 
asked  the  old  man. 

"Oh,  well,  I  just  say  to  myself,  'He 
understands  His  business." 

"The  Judge  of  all  the  earth  shall  do 
right!"  said  Doctor  Lavendar.  "Tell 
me  some  more." 

So  Paul,  stroking  Danny's  shaggy 
little  head,  told  him,  fully.  Doctor 
Lavendar  got  up  once,  and  tramped 
about  the  room,  with  his  coat  tails 
pulled  forward  under  his  arms  and  his 
hands  in  his  pockets;  once  his  pipe 
73 


tty  iOalmrersi  Are 

went  out,  and  once  he  took  his  spec 
tacles  off  and  wiped  them. 

When  the  story  was  finished  he  came 
and  sat  down  beside  the  younger  man, 
and  struck  him  on  the  knee  with  a 
trembling  hand.  "My  dear  brother! 
my  dear  brother!"  he  said.  " Go  back 
to  the  roads  and  the  saloons ;  and  pre 
pare  the  way  of  the  Lord,  and  make 
straight  His  paths!" 

Paul  put  Danny  down,  gently,  and 
looked  up  with  a  puzzled  face. 

"Sir,"  said  Doctor  Lavendar,  "the 
Lord  has  educated  you.  You  don't 
need  the  schooling  of  men.  See  what 
a  work  has  been  given  you  to  do: 
Paul,  a  minister  to  the  Gentiles!" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Paul,  "if  I  can  just 
get  some  education.  If  I  can  know 
a  few  things." 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  the  old  man, 
smiling,  "  you  know  what  is  best  worth 
79 


Arc 


knowing  in  the  world  :  you  know  your 
Master.  He's  put  you  to  do  a  work 
for  Him  which  most  of  His  ministers 
are  not  capable  of  doing.  You  have 
a  congregation,  young  man,  that  we 
old  fellows  would  give  our  ears  to  get. 
Who  would  listen  to  me  if  I  went  into 
Van  Horn's  and  talked  to  them?  Not 
one!  They'd  slink  out  the  back  door. 
And  I  can't  get  'em  into  my  church  — 
though  I've  got  the  red  cushions," 
said  Dr.  Lavendar,  his  eyes  twinkling. 
"No,  sir;  your  work's  been  marked 
out  for  you.  Do  it!  —  and  may  the 
Lord  bless  you,  and  bless  the  word 
you  speak!"  His  face  moved,  and  he 
took  off  his  glasses  again,  and  pol 
ished  them  on  his  big  red  silk  hand 
kerchief. 

Paul's    bewildered    disappointment 
was  evident  in  his  face.     So  evident 
that  Doctor  Lavendar  set  himself  to 
80 


i&ah0r?r0  Are 


tell  him,  in  patient  detail,  what  he 
thought  of  the  situation;  and  as  he 
talked  the  light  came.  "I  see,"  the 
young  man  said  once  or  twice,  softly, 
as  though  to  himself;  "I  see — I  see." 
It  came  to  him,  as  it  comes  to  most 
of  us,  if  we  live  long  enough,  that 
when  we  ask  for  a  stone,  He  some 
times  gives  us  bread,  and  that  the 
path  of  service  is  the  path  in  which  we 
find  our  feet  set. 

But  when  he  rose  to  go,  there  was 
a  solemn  moment  of  silence.  Then 
the  old  minister,  with  his  hands  up 
lifted  above  the  young  minister's 
head,  said: 

"  Almighty  God,  who  hath  given  you 
this  will  to  do  all  these  things,  grant 
also  unto  you  strength  and  power  to 
perform  the  same,  that  He  may  accom 
plish  His  work  which  He  hath  begun 
in  you,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 
81 


tlj?  Eahmrra  Are 

Paul,  leaning  on  his  crutch,  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  and  said,  pas 
sionately,  "Amen." 

When  he  went  back  to  the  three 
ladies,  the  uplifting  of  that  moment 
lingered  in  his  eyes.  He  came  into 
the  sitting-room,  where  Miss  Henrietta 
and  Miss  Maggy  were  at  work;  it  was 
a  cool  September  day,  and  a  little  fire 
crackled  in  the  grate.  The  room  was 
hot,  and  smelled  of  worsted;  Miss 
Henrietta's  canary  hung  in  the  sunny 
window,  cracking  his  hemp  seeds,  and 
ruffling  his  feathers  after  a  splashing 
bath.  The  two  ladies  were  rocking 
and  knitting,  and  Miss  Henrietta  had 
been  saying  how  much  she  missed  roll 
ing  her  big  pink  ball  along  the  floor 
for  Jacky  to  play  with.  "Though  he 
didn't  play  much,"  she  said;  "he  was 
getting  old." 

82 


"I  used  to  think  he  was  lazy,"  ob 
served  Miss  Maggy,  comfortably. 

"No,  he  wasn't,"  Miss  Henrietta 
retorted.  "You  never  appreciated 
Jacky." 

"Yes,  I  did,"  Maggy  remonstrated; 
"only  I  never  called  him  human." 

"  Human?  Well,  I  think  that  some 
cats  are  nicer  than  most  people,"  old 
Henrietta  replied,  with  heat. 

It  was  just  then  that  Paul  came  in 
to  report  the  result  of  his  interview 
with  Doctor  Lavendar.  He  was  very 
brief  about  it,  and  as  he  talked  the 
solemn  look  faded,  and  he  spoke  with 
open  cheerfulness,  though  with  re 
serve.  "I  guess  he's  right,"  he  said; 
"the  place  for  me  is  the  place  where 
I'm  put;  I  guess  he's  right.  I've  got 
my  job!  Well,  ladies,  I  came  to  say 
good-bye,  and  to  thank  you,  and — ! 

"  Do  you  mean,"   said  Jane,  from 

83 


Ar?  3fl>ro 


the  doorway  behind  him,  "that  Doc 
tor  Lavendar  won't  help  you  to  be  a 
clergyman?"  Her  face  was  pale,  and 
then  flooded  with  crimson;  she  was 
trembling  very  much.  "  It  is  wicked !" 
Her  voice  was  suddenly  shrill,  but 
broke  almost  into  a  sob.  ' '  I  don't  like 
Doctor  Lavendar!  You  ought  to  be 
a  clergyman." 

Paul  held  up  his  hand  with  a  cer 
tain  authority.  "I  have  been  called 
to  do  my  own  work,"  he  said. 

"I  guess  Doctor  Lavendar's  right, 
Janie,"  Miss  Maggy  said,  soothingly. 
"Paul,  I'm  going  to  give  you  one  of 
Bishop  Jay's  sermons.  I've  copied  it 
out,  and  I'm  sure  you  will  make  good 
use  of  it." 

Then  she  asked  some  friendly  ques 
tions  about  his  route,  and  brought  him 
the  sermon  and  a  little  luncheon  she 
had  prepared;  and  then  Paul  began 
84 


to  make  his  adieux.  He  said  much  of 
their  kindness  to  him,  and  his  wish 
that  he  could  ever  have  the  chance  to 
do  anything  for  them;  while  they 
politely  deprecated  anything  that  they 
had  done. 

Miss  Henrietta  shook  hands  with 
him,  and  said  that  if  he  should  meet 
a  white  cat  anywhere,  to  be  sure  and 
see  if  he  answered  to  the  name  of 
Jacky.  Miss  Maggy  bade  him  be  very 
careful  of  his  limb,  and  hoped  he  would 
find  his  sister  better.  "  And  if  you  ever 
get  so  far  east  again,  you  must  come 
and  see  us,"  she  said,  kindly. 

Jane  gave  him  her  hand ;  but  she  let 
it  slip  listlessly  from  his  fingers,  and 
she  did  not  lift  her  eyes  to  meet  his 
—a  brother's  eyes,  pitying  and  un 
derstanding.  "  Good-bye/'  she  said, 
dully. 

Paul,  shouldering  his  knapsack, 
85 


tip  ICahnms  Are 


waved  his  hat  gayly  and  started  off, 
limping  down  the  path  to  the  street.  .  .  . 

4 'Well,  now  really,  for  a  person  in 
his  position,"  said  Miss  Maggy,  ''he 
has  behaved  very  well,  hasn't  he?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  old  Henrietta  agreed ; 
"and  he  was  so  sympathetic,  too. 
See,  Maggy,  this  needle  does  make  a 
looser  stitch — don't  you  think  so?" 

Jane  leaned  her  forehead  against  the 
window  and  looked  down  the  road 
where,  for  a  moment,  there  was  a  little 
cloud  of  dust;  then  it  disappeared. 


THE    END 


m 

^-rv 


^x 


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tCT  29 


1C  1 02693 


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